


Oh What a Guy, Gaston

by Cecils_Third_Eye



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bisexual Gaston, Canon Gay Character, Established Relationship, Healthy Relationships, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-12 05:16:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10482927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cecils_Third_Eye/pseuds/Cecils_Third_Eye
Summary: A villian is just a victim whose story hasn't been told. - Chris ColferThey told him that two men could not raise a healthy child, and they threatened to take his daughter if he didn't find a 'suitable' omega. It didn't matter that he'd been mated to LeFou for close to five years. It didn't matter that LeFou was the only parent that little girl had ever truly known.He was a male omega, and was therefore undesireable and unsuitable in every way that mattered.





	1. Introduction

Green eyes narrowed in irritation, “He’s late.”

LeFou chuckled, “Much as we might wish he could snap his fingers and magically be home, _ma chère_ , it takes time to travel from one place to another. Sometimes, it takes a _very_ long time…”

“But he’s been gone for a _very_ long time.” She whined, “Practically _forever_.”

Two years probably did seem like forever for a child of barely six. The elder’s heart clenched as he remembered how the small child had clutched to Gaston’s boot, teary eyed, begging him not to leave… “Just a little longer.”

A tiny hand snuck its way into his, and when he looked down, he was met with the smiling face of the most important girl in his life. Sure, she wasn’t his biologically. Such trivialities had never mattered to LeFou. He’d been a part of her life since before she’d taken her first tottering steps and since the moment he’d first held her in his arms, she’d looked at him like he hung the moon and strung along the stars.

He licked the pad of his thumb and wiped a stray streak of dirt from her cheek. He could already tell that she’d be absolutely radiant when she was older, with her father’s inky black hair and sun-kissed skin, and her mother’s liquid emerald eyes. She was wearing a pretty white dress, the hemline trimmed with expensive, imported lace, and a lovely pink jacket – a gift from her father, sent with Paris with a request that she wear it for his homecoming.

A loud whinny interrupted his silent reverie, and his angel tore from his embrace to attack her father. Gaston barely had enough time to dismount before he had an armful of rambunctious child, “Well, it looks like somebody missed me.”

“Daddy!” She gave him a wet kiss on the cheek, giggling when his two-day stubble tickled her face.

Gaston returned the sentiment with a kiss to the forehead, earning a delighted yelp from his daughter. “I should hope that you’ve been good for LeFou while Daddy has been away.”

LeFou approached at the sound of his name, and Gaston bent to kiss his mate. LeFou smiled at the gentleness of the gesture. “Angelique was wonderful, as usual.”

“Is that so?” Gaston seemed to contemplate this for a moment, then, “Well… you know that Daddy _always_ has a present for his good girl -,”

“Present?!” Green eyes widened with excitement as she tried to peer into his satchel to see what it could be.

Laughing, Gaston set her down, “Go ahead and grab it, sweetie. I picked it out special, just for you.”

While the little girl was otherwise distracted, he leaned down and kissed LeFou again. His tongue prodded against those sinfully plump lips, one strong, calloused hand knotting in his curly black locks. “I hope Angel’s not the only one that’s missed me…”

LeFou gulped, Gaston still very much in his personal bubble. He could feel heat rising in his cheeks, his claiming mark tingling pleasantly at having his mate so near. “Definitely not the only one.”

Gaston laughed, a low rumble in his chest. Something that had been coiled almost painfully tight in LeFou’s chest _released_ at the sound of that beautiful laugh. “Good.”

A pleased shriek interrupted their conversation as Angelique finally unearthed her gift – an expensive-looking porcelain baby doll. It was swaddled in soft cloth, and had a dusting of fine, strawberry blonde hair atop its pale head. When she adjusted the position of the doll’s head, the eyes would open and close. The eyes were the same shade of candy apple green as Angelique’s. She cradled that doll as though it were a real baby.

Gaston watched as his daughter bounded over to his mate, almost stumbling over her own unruly feet. She began babbling about all of the games they would play together, and Gaston felt a sudden rush of pride overwhelm him – his mate was just so _good_ to his little girl. Not for the first time, he wished that there was a way for him to have an _actual_ family with LeFou, to see his mate swollen with their children… to be surrounded by little black haired, brown eyed beauties.

How many alphas could leave for war for two _painfully long_ years and know, without a shadow of a doubt, that their omega would be faithful? Gaston closed the distance between himself and his little family, drawing his daughter and mate into the tightest embrace he could manage. It felt so good to have them back in his arms – better than he’d imagined it would. He only broke away several moments later, when Angelique began to squirm uncomfortably.

“You smell like sweat, Daddy.” She muttered, wrinkling her nose in a show of displeasure. “You need a bath.”

“A bath sounds wonderful, _ma chère_.” God, nothing would feel better right then than submersing himself in scalding water, laying absolutely motionless until his skin pruned. “But first – a drink!”

\--

“Mademoiselle!” Bare feet smacked against the wet cobblestone as the tiny child struggled to catch up with their village outcast.

Belle turned, stopping so suddenly that the child almost ran into her. “Ah, Angelique. I had thought that you and your Papa were waiting in the clearing for -,”

Angelique adjusted the baby doll in her arms, proud that she hadn’t dropped it. “We were. Daddy, he… he came home, and he was just like I remembered! He was big and strong and brave and… look what he brought me!”

“That’s a very nice dolly, _ma chère._ ” Belle said. “Have you given her a name yet?”

Angelique nodded, “Aileas! It means noble and graceful.” She smiled down at the doll, “She’s gonna be a princess one day.”

“I think that that is a wonderful name. Very fitting for a future princess.” Belle smiled, “I’m just about to head into town and exchange this book for another – would you like to come with? Maybe your favorite book of fairytales is in.”

“Will you read it with me?” She asked, barely able to contain her excitement.

“Don’t I always?” She countered with a smile.

Although a bit of a late bloomer, the villagers were almost certain that Belle would present as an omega. The children flocked to her… she was domestic, in her own way… a born caretaker, really, with the way she looked after her father… Angelique was often at odds with the villagers, unable to form any meaningful relationships with the children her age because of her fathers’ taboo relationship. Distrustful of nonconformity, and any product thereof, the little girl was considered dangerous.

But Belle accepted her – likely because she was also an outcast and knew what it was like to feel as though you were on the outside looking in. If Belle had finished her chores early, she would often drop by and relieve LeFou for a few hours, and the two would go into town together. Angelique wanted to work hard and learn how to read so that she could teach her Papa, and he wouldn’t look so sad about sending her off to bed without a story at night.

She adjusted her dolly as they entered the chapel, Belle leading the child up to the desk and encouraging her to pick a book from the small selection. “Bonjour, Monsieur Robert. I’ve come to exchange that book.”

The chaplain stuck his head around the corner, having been tucked away in the confines of his office. “Bonjour, Mademoiselles.” He smiled at Angelique, “My, how you’ve grown! Why, you must be a full head taller since I’ve seen you last.”

“I’m six now!” The little girl held up five fingers proudly.

“Is that so?” He smiled at her fondly, ruffling her inky black curls. “Is that a new dolly?”

A nod, “Daddy gave her to me. Her name is Aileas, and she’s gonna be a princess!”

“That’s a noble ambition.” Pète said, “But I’m sure that she’s up to the task.” And then, to Belle, “Keep the book for as long as you’d like. Really, there’s no rush.”

“Thank you, Monsieur.”

Nobody dared mention why LeFou had not taken Angelique to Mass in Gaston’s absence. Gaston was loved and revered by the villagers – nobody dared mess with him when his mate was around. But in his absence… well… if it were possible to reverse a mating bond short of killing one of the partners, LeFou was certain they would have done it. Villeneuve did not look kindly on same sex relationships, and the fact that there was a child involved seemed to only make matters worse.

It didn’t seem to matter that Angelique was perfectly happy and healthy. There would always be those of the opinion that two men were not fit to raise a child and would try to take her away. Those that weren’t hell bent on taking her away treated her like she was beneath them. Though she didn’t understand the odd behavior of the villagers, she didn’t seem to be too terribly bothered by it. But LeFou _was_ bothered by it, and he tried to shelter her from it as much as possible.

As they were walking back to the well at the center of the Town Square, Angel felt something warm and wet hit her lower back. She turned, coming face to face with a small group of boys laughing at her expense. “What the -,”

Before she could say anything more, a glob of mud hit her in the face. Belle frowned, “That’s quite enough. Get out of here!”

Angel sniffled, wincing as the mud clogged her nostrils and dripped into her mouth. “T-They got mud on my new dress.” She whined, “Daddy b-bought me this d-dress… and the-they ruined it!”

“Shh, it’s okay _ma chère_. It’s just a little bit of mud. It’ll wash right out, and then your dress will be good as new.” Belle assured her, before wetting the corner of her apron and attempting to clean her face.

It was then that one of the boys shoved her into the mud puddle. Her doll tumbled out of her arms, its porcelain face cracking when it made contact with the stones of the well. “Aileas!”

“Oh look, the baby’s gonna cry because ‘er dolly got broken.” The boy proceeded to wail in a cheap imitation of an infant.

“Look at ‘er – a _proper_ lady sittin’ in the mud!” Another laughed. “The sodomite’s probably teachin’ ‘er to be just like a boy. It ain’t like she’s got a good example – ‘er ‘papa’ entertains freaks that like to dress in lady’s clothing!”

“Don’t talk about Stanley like that!” Angelique hissed, struggling to stand in the muck.

Belle offered her a hand, but it was ignored. “Don’t stoop to their level, _ma chère._ Come home with me, and I’ll help you get cleaned up. He won’t even notice there was even a stain -,”

Instead, Angelique charged at one of the boys, taking him down _hard_ into the mud. She might not have been the epitome of elegance and grace, but she’d learned quite a bit from play wrestling matches with her father. The boy struggled beneath her, long, blond hair spraying mud _everywhere_ as he tried to throw her off. She snarled, bearing her teeth like her father did to lesser alphas and betas as a show of dominance, before sinking her teeth roughly into his shoulder.

One of the other boys clubbed her in the side of the face hard enough to bruise, sending her sprawling. She landed on top of her doll, which gave one last defeated _crunch_ as her bodyweight bore down on its already cracked frame. Belle struggled to reach the sobbing child, not wanting to cause any more harm to either party… but the boys continued to close in, hovering over the two almost menacingly.

And that was how the constable found them just ten minutes later.


	2. A Relationship Unraveled

“What seems to be the problem here?” The constable asked. Angel, tears pouring down her cheeks, had begun to pull the shards of porcelain from her doll’s broken face out of her skirts.

“S-She _bit_ me!” One of the boys exclaimed, showing off the nasty bruise and imprint of teeth that marred his shoulder. “Threw me down in the mud and just _bit_ me!”

Belle frowned, “Don’t lie to the constable! Monsieur, these three _attacked_ this little girl because -,”

The constable cut her off, “Mademoiselle, it seems _highly_ unlikely that three young men would gang up on a small child and ‘attack’ them. And a girl, at that.”

“I don’t _care_ how _likely_ it seems, Monsieur. I know what I saw!” Belle repeated firmly.

But he completely disregarded her once again, “Now, _ma chère_ , this is far from acceptable behavior for a respectable young lady. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Angel sniffled, “I w-want my Papa.”

Belle wrapped her in her arms, cocooning her tightly. “Shh, everything will be alright. No more tears now, okay?”

“A-Aileas… she’s b-broken.” She motioned to the doll, the swaddling cloth the only piece that remained unscathed.

“My Papa… he can fix Aileas.” Belle said, picking up the shards of porcelain and laying them in her apron. “Just think of it like… like she’s going to the doctor. My Papa will make her all better.”

“Wait a minute…” the constable narrowed his eyes at the child, causing her to shrink away from his gaze, “You’re Gaston’s daughter. That explains everything.”

None too gently, he wrapped one massive hand around the child’s shoulder and yanked her from Belle’s side. Angel let out a startled yelp as she tottered to the constable’s side, and the boys laughed as she stumbled over her own two feet and went down in the mud puddle once more. Now, the sticky brown substance was caked into her hair and splattered across her face. Her dress, stained beyond recognition, clung tightly to her frame.

“What do you think that you’re doing, Monsieur? She’s just a little girl!” Belle cried, trying to snatch the child back.

“Setting an example.” He said, squeezing her shoulder and practically dragging her to her feet. “Proper young women don’t roughhouse with young men. She’d know that, if she had a _proper_ mother-figure in her life.”

“I want my Papa!” Angel said, louder this time. She struggled against the constable’s hold, but he was significantly stronger and held firm.

The constable scowled, “When I’m through, you won’t be seeing your ‘Papa’,” he spat the word out, as if it left a vile taste in his mouth, “for a very long time.”

 _“Belle!”_ Her heartbreaking cry brought tears to Belle’s own eyes, and caused the boys to laugh harder.

He paraded her through the town like a common criminal, and Angel, woozy from the blow to the head that had effectively ended the fight between her and the village boys, allowed herself to be led without much of a fuss. Villagers pointed and laughed, and Angel did her best to avoid looking at any particular one for too long. This was exactly what her Papa had been so worried about, and it was all… her… _fault_.

The scent of alcohol was thick in the air as the constable pushed open the swinging doors of the tavern, and the boisterous laughter and out-of-tune singing came to an abrupt halt when the constable marched the dirty, injured child over to Gaston. Angel sniffled, hesitating only a moment before effectively catapulting herself into Gaston’s unprepared arms. His drink sloshed messily over the side of his mug at the force of the impact.

“ _Ma chère_ , what happened? You’re positively _filthy_.” And then, he saw the nasty bruise that had begun to form on her tanned cheek. He turned to the constable, “What is the meaning of this, Monsieur?”

“Apparently, your little ‘angel’ decided to pick a fight with some village boys. She even bit one of them.” He said.

Gaston turned to Angelique, “Is that true, _ma ange_? Did you pick a fight with those boys?”

Angel shook her head, her face still buried in her father’s tunic, “No, Daddy. They were… They were saying such awful things about Papa, and Uncle Stanley, and… And then the one pushed me down into the mud and…”

“Did one of them hit you?” Gentle fingers pressed along the tender skin of her cheek.

“Y-Yes.” She choked back a sob.

Gaston narrowed his eyes at the constable, “You bring my daughter to me, crying and wounded, and tell me that _she_ is the one at fault… What of the boys? The one that hit her?”

“I find it hard to believe that any respectable young man would put his hands on a young girl in such a barbaric -,”

Gaston twisted the child around, pulling her hair back from her face to show the oblivious man the side of her face. “Well, I’d suggest you start believing it – bruises of that magnitude don’t just materialize out of thin air!”

“…And even if they did, it would be in self-defense.” He continued, unfazed.

“What could she have possibly done to warrant such an act of ‘self-defense’?” Gaston snapped.

“As I said before, she bit one of them. He has the bruise and the teeth markings to prove it.”

“Oh, heavens, it’s the end of the world because a child bit another child! What do you suggest I do, constable? Take her out back and _shoot_ her like a rabid dog? She was defending herself -,”

“I _suggest_ that you get her a proper role model to prevent such incidents from occurring in the future.” He said.

Gaston was silent for a moment. In fact, the entire bar had become eerily silent. And then, he scooped the child up into his arms and started for the door. “You know what? This conversation is over.”

With some difficulty, he managed to get both of them onto his horse. Angel was gripping the front of his tunic tightly, and he wrapped her up in his jacket, pressing her face to his chest so that she wouldn’t have to look at the constable as they rode around the front of the tavern. It was only then that he realized that her baby doll was missing. But as she continued to sob, he realized that perhaps that was a question better suited for another time.

\--

Thankfully, LeFou had left the tavern early to start gathering water and warming it for Gaston’s bath. He had a large pot of water over the fire, and it was just about at the right temperature when Gaston came whirling into their little cottage, Angel asleep in his arms. LeFou, about to greet them both with a kiss, paused when he saw the way the flames illuminated the nasty purplish marks on Angel’s tiny face.

“What… What happened?” Was all that he could say. He took a step forward, paused, turned and grabbed one of the blankets from the back of their couch and brought it over, stripping off of her wet clothes and bundling her tightly.

“A fight with some of the village boys.” Gaston said gruffly. He took out his pipe and struggled momentarily to light it.

 _“What_?!” LeFou screeched. He wet his handkerchief in the warm water and brought it to her face, cleaning it gently. “Ohh… my poor baby.”

Gaston bit down on the pipe a little harder than necessary, feeling an odd ache in his gut. “But she’s not.”

“Not what?” LeFou asked absently, concentrating on not accidentally injuring the child further.

“She’s not your baby.” Gaston continued, oblivious to the way that LeFou had suddenly frozen. “You’re a male omega. Children have never been an option for you.”

LeFou sniffled, “Thanks for the reminder.”

But it was clear that Gaston was no longer listening to his mate, “You know, I once dreamed of having seven strapping little boys to carry on my proud name. A wife to cook me dinner, rub my feet… to see to my every whim.”

LeFou frowned, turning to glare at his mate with watery brown eyes, “And look what you got. A daughter that adores you. A mate that puts up with your bullshit, heaven knows why -,”

“The constable seems to think you’re not a proper role model for Angelique.” He said.

LeFou stilled, “And what do _you_ think?”

“What does it matter what I think?”

“You’re her father! Yours is the only opinion that actually _does_ matter!”

The thick, heady scent of sweat mixed with cherries alerts him to his omega’s distress long before he notices the way LeFou is shaking. Gaston sighed. This was not the first time that they’d had this conversation, but it had never taken this sort of pessimistic, painful edge before. Gaston had spent much of his life pretending to be someone he just _wasn’t_ and the whole damned societal hierarchy could implode before he went back to how things were before…

He tossed his still-smoking pipe onto the table, before rising from his overstuffed armchair and crossing the distance between himself and LeFou. Squatting down beside his mate, he wrapped his arms around his belly and squeezed tight. The welcome pressure grounded LeFou… Gaston could feel every hiccup of breath, every pained inhalation as he fought through the dense fog of tears… He kissed his cheek, licking one of the salty tears away.

“I’ve often wondered what keeps my lovely mate from suffocating me in my sleep.” He murmured into the smaller man’s ear, earning a small, albeit slightly forced laugh.

“Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind.” LeFou grumbled lowly.

“I suppose that I should be grateful that you love me.” Gaston said, before growling, letting the soothing rumble build in his chest and soothe his distressed mate.

LeFou moaned, “Whoever said that I love you?”

Thick, calloused fingers toyed with LeFou’s luscious ebony curls. “Mmm, a little birdy told me.”

“I should have a talk with this birdy and tell it to stop spreading erroneous information.”

Gaston’s answering growl was of a decidedly more predatory nature. “You know what it does to me when you start using such… big words.”

“We still need to talk about what happened.” LeFou said, inclining his head to the small child, slumbering peacefully before the fire.

“I’ve told you all that I know.” Gaston said. “Besides, I think that I’ve upset you enough for the time being.”

Once he was sure that his mate had calmed, Gaston drew back to tend to the bath. LeFou finished cleaning the small child’s face, before he applied a bit of salve to her bruise to take away some of the ache and possibly ease some of the swelling. When the bath was almost ready, he woke her. Bleary green eyes blinked open slowly, and when they focused on LeFou the tears from earlier returned. He shushed her gently, letting her cry into his chest.

The bath was difficult, mainly because he had to pry her off of him in order to get her into the water. She kept rubbing her face on the inside of his wrist, attempting to cover herself in his scent. Gaston did not venture very far – in fact, he hovered nearby for the duration of her soak, angry pheromones rolling off of him in waves. Though the anger was directed at the incompetence of the constable and the arrogance of the boys, it only upset Angel further.

“Papa!” Angel cried as she was lifted from the warmth of the bath and bundled once more in her blanket.

“Shh… I’m not going anywhere, _ma ange_. We’re gonna go upstairs and put you in a nice, warm pair of pajamas, and then we’ll cuddle on the bed for a while. How does that sound?” LeFou asked.

“Daddy?” She turned to Gaston, who was slipping on his coat once more. She whined, not at all pleased to find he was leaving once more.

LeFou was quick to attempt to placate her. “Daddy just has some important business to attend to. But he’ll be back before you can miss him, and then you can snuggle him all you want.”

Gaston pressed a kiss to her curls, “Someone has to make sure that those boys pay for what they did to you, _ma chère._ ” He squeezed both his daughter and mate tightly, “I’ll be home soon.”

It wasn’t until the door shut behind him that Angelique laid her head against LeFou’s chest and murmured, “That’s what he said two years ago.”


End file.
